


Many Happy Returns

by Penknife



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Birthday Presents, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 05:01:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26846317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penknife/pseuds/Penknife
Summary: An undead horse would be a romantic gesture, but it would also be an undead horse. That's the drawback.
Relationships: Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus
Comments: 12
Kudos: 89
Collections: Shipoween 2020 - The Halloween Ship Exchange!





	Many Happy Returns

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KasumiAFKGod](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KasumiAFKGod/gifts).



They were coming up on Dorian's birthday, which was presenting Bull with a problem. For Dorian's last birthday he had presented Dorian with a bottle of overly syrupy Tevinter wine, which had the virtue of being halfway between a serious birthday present and something he would idly hand Dorian if he found it in the field. On his own birthday, Dorian had returned the favor by digging up a bottle of maraas-lok—possibly literally digging up, from the label it was pretty damn old—and actually managing to take several drinks of it himself without choking.

That fit their general pattern of making it possible for them both to pretend they weren't doing whatever the thing was that they were doing. But this birthday felt different, because Bull had half a dragon's tooth hanging around his neck, warm against his skin, and in the face of that, he felt like he had better come up with a real present, something that Dorian actually wanted but wouldn't get for himself.

One problem was that most things that Dorian saw and wanted, Dorian acquired. The man had built a cluttered nest for himself in Skyhold, and still spent a lot of time cajoling Josephine into procuring more odds and ends for him.

Another problem was that things that were actually seriously difficult to get, like priceless ancient Tevinter manuscripts, had become significantly more difficult for Bull to get since he burned his Ben-Hassrath contacts. There was a time when he could have written, _I need a first edition of a book of Tevinter poetry about sex, for reasons_ , and been fairly certain that he'd get it. Of course, that would have been a lie, at least by implication—the implication being that he needed the book to get into Dorian's bed to get access to Dorian's secrets, which had never been what he was doing—but then he had lied a lot, in that life.

In this life, apparently what he did was overthink birthday presents. There were clothes, but Dorian had so many opinions about clothes that Bull wasn't sure he could come up with anything that Dorian would actually like, and it wouldn't be much fun to watch Dorian pretend to like something for his sake. There were books, but he'd have to work through Josephine, and he was pretty sure Josephine already had standing orders out for the hard-to-find books that Dorian wanted.

He considered asking Krem, on the grounds that Krem understood Vints, but he knew that if he did, it would become a Chargers mission to find a birthday present for Dorian Pavus, and he wasn't sure that he was up for that. Bull loved the Chargers, and was aware that they loved him, but he'd rather make this happen without a bunch of comic mayhem in the middle of it.

There were always dragons. Dorian probably didn't want a dragon's head as a trophy, though, even if he could talk Cadash into taking Bull out to kill a dragon behind Dorian's back. He might want a _live_ dragon, but Bull was pretty sure he couldn't talk Cadash into letting him bring a dragon's egg home.

He was actually considering trying to track down that undead horse thing that somebody tried to give Cadash. It was gruesome, but Dorian would probably love it, and the fact that Bull thought it was creepy as shit would at least demonstrate that he was willing to put Dorian's desires before his own fundamental belief that no one should be riding anything that had already died, for fuck's sake.

He felt like he ought to make some kind of big gesture, even if it was a creepy undead gesture, after Dorian had figured out the dragon tooth thing, and given him the necklace, and called him "kadan," and left Bull momentarily unable to speak a single word. Kissing had worked, followed by fucking, followed by not getting out of bed the next day until Cadash had sent a scout up with orders to remind them that he wasn't running a hotel, here, and would they like to come help fight some demons?

He was always going to enjoy remembering the way Dorian looked, like a cat with its fur all fluffed out, so nervous that he was about to set the room on fire, but giving him the necklace anyway. It was funny because Dorian had looked more than a little ridiculous, and important because Bull knew how much Dorian hated looking ridiculous, and how much the crappy unwanted voices in the back of Dorian's head must have been telling him that Bull couldn't really want this, or want him. And he'd done it anyway, because—

Right. He had an idea, now. He wasn't sure how he felt about the idea at all, which meant that it was probably right. And, hell, the alternative was having an undead horse around for years and years, looking at him and _not blinking_.

He waited for Dorian's birthday, because if you're going to do a thing, you might as well do it properly, and then sent Dorian a note saying "meet me in my room, it's your birthday."

Dorian was remarkably prompt, despite having clearly changed clothes from one asymmetrical leather thing that showed off his ass to a different asymmetrical leather thing that showed off his ass even better. "I know it's my birthday," he said, a little smugly. "Am I to assume that my present is sex?"

"That doesn't count as a present, it's too much fun for me," Bull said. "Although we can do that too, if you want."

"Later," Dorian said, which Bull preferred, because he'd rather do this if he was going to.

"I love you," Bull said. "And I'm happy with this. And I want to keep doing it, one way or another, as long as we can."

Dorian stared at him as if he were seriously considering the possibility that Bull was possessed. "What?" he said eventually, a little faintly.

"That," Bull said, with a shrug that meant, _that stuff I just said_ , _and would rather not say again right now, because I'm pretty sure you were listening._

"Have you taken leave of your senses? No, I know, you're under the influence of some sort of truth spell."

"I don't think those are a thing."

"Never underestimate the power of blood magic, although, no, I'm not certain they're actually a thing either. Terrifying prospect, isn't it?"

"Kind of kinky, maybe."

"We are not playing 'cursed to tell the truth,'" Dorian said, although he sounded interested enough that Bull thought they might, at some point. "And if you haven't been cursed to tell the truth, then why—"

"... would I tell you the truth?"

"I don't mean that you lie to me habitually. I mean that generally your demonstrations of affection involve removing clothing."

"It's your birthday," Bull said. It had made more sense when he came up with the idea, maybe, although he could see Dorian's expression beginning to soften, and then harden in a different way, into the look he got when something was making him feel things he didn't want anyone to see.

"So you're telling me what you think I want to hear?"

"So I'm telling you, rather than showing you." The 'love' thing still bothered him, a little. It was easy loving Krem, and the rest of the boys. You were supposed to love your friends, under the Qun. This stuff meant more than that, or at least something different than that. It meant choosing someone. He didn't have a lot of practice with choosing things, although he was working on that.

But looking at Dorian's expression, he decided he was right that Dorian had wanted to hear it. The way he felt looking at Dorian was a weird bright glow in the center of his chest that combined "I'm really happy" and "There's no one like you" and "I want to rip your clothes off," which he figured was probably what those ancient Tevinter poets were talking about when they weren't talking about what they wanted to do with their ancient Tevinter pricks.

"I," Dorian began, and then started to get that fluffed-out cat expression again.

"You don't have to say it," Bull said. "It's your birthday."

Dorian looked relieved, and, hell, he didn't have any actual doubt that Dorian loved him. Dorian was terrible at lying, as opposed to saying things that weren't true, but that were at the same time perfectly clear.

"I hate you, and we will most likely never speak to each other again after tonight," Dorian said.

Things like that.

"You have such a mouth," Bull said, and covered Dorian's mouth with his own.

Much later, sprawled on what was left of the bed—there was a long rip in the bedsheets that Bull would have to pay one of the laundresses to mend, and the bedstead had developed a new creak that it hadn't had before—Dorian leaned his head back against Bull's shoulder and said, "I'm only afraid of what you're going to do next year to top this."

"Don't want to spoil the surprise," Bull said. He'd have to find the guys who had that undead horse. Maybe if they polished up the sword in its head, it wouldn't look so—no, he was kidding himself about that. But he was looking forward to seeing Dorian's face.

"I should be very afraid," Dorian said, but he sounded as if he wasn't worrying much at all.


End file.
